Flickering
by RockThaWriter
Summary: "Darkness has always surrounded him. He lived in darkness, breathed the darkness, felt the darkness. Around and inside him he could feel the darkness. There was not one spark of light inside him. That was, until he finally found a little bright flame in the middle of nowhere. A flame will make a fire inside of him. A fire, that will light up his darkness and let it fade away."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Winter had been such an enchanting season to him. Small, white crystals fell gracefully to the ground and created a pillow of white all over the town. Night would come early, enveloping the city in a soft atmosphere full of lit lanterns on the street and the pedestrians hiding in their dark coats and long boots, accompanied by pairs of hand gloves to prevent their delicate skins from freezing. Under these circumstances it had never been much of a surprise to find young couples sitting on cold benches, holding hands and cuddling to keep the small bit of heat around them stable. Others preferred a good, hot cup of chocolate while they lugged around at some corner of a coffee shop seat. It has always been this way, every winter. But people did not witness the strange thing about the annual cold season: The more snow fell, the more people were killed.

Unfortunately for the rest of the population, a certain man hated the colour white. Hate was such a strong word, but it described this sickening feeling inside him perfectly. White had to become tainted with red. Only then it was acceptable. The reason he despised the colour of snow was what he associated with it. Or rather, who it made him think of. Spidery long fingers clenched to a tight fist at the mere thought of that white haired sheep. A sheep he was indeed, innocent, emotionless, and cowardly. Hiding behind the several monitors in a room full of childish entertainment material such as cards, legos and robots, he sat, silently mocking the blond. Not one day did the blond man appreciate this behaviour that only resulted in the idea of killing people in the sheep's favourite time of the year. Idiotic, little sheep…

Sapphire blue eyes wandered in the dim-lighted office and finally rested on what he was looking for. Removing himself from the windowsill, he made his way over to the two large armchairs. The shimmering black leather was a beautiful sight, but he rarely found anyone trustworthy enough to sit on the chair next to his own, the one with the imprinted, golden "M" letter. Settling himself onto the marked armchair, he picked up the metallic item, which lay carefully on top of the coffee table between the two seats. The blond man's gaze fell onto the shiny gun. This sufficient weapon had been his one and only companion for all these years, from the moment he entered that abandoned building in the outskirts of Winchester, England.

It had been a long night for a fifteen year old guy like him. His poorly clad feet froze bit by bit with every step he took on his race through the thick layer of snow. With nothing but a backpack, the boy ran away from the place he had once called home. The great orphanage for gifted children, Whammy's House, also less commonly known as the place where children mentally worked themselves to death, was nothing more than a copy machine. Its only purpose was to create a copy of the brilliant mind of the detective called "L". That man resembled the biggest mystery in most people's lives. No one had the privilege to meet the greatest detective of all times –that is, except for a young boy with the given name Mello. He was one of the orphans at Whammy's and belonged to the fourth generation of copies.

Until this day the genius couldn't grasp L's intentions behind it, but for whatever reason he had chosen to talk to the second best. Near held the top spot and, much to Mello's dismay, was adored by absolutely everyone. Yet this person didn't stand up for his name, for he preferred to push people away from him. They were like fruit flies eager to explore a bowl of grapes on a hot summer day, but the grapes were protected by a thin cloth, which covered up those oh-so-precious grapes. The thin cloth in this silly, but quite accurate metaphor hadn't been anyone else but our caretaker, Roger.

There wasn't a single person, whose hate for children could be compared to Roger's loathing of the poor orphans. Paradoxical as it may seem to be, but Roger had taken a liking in only one person, which was the top successor of L, the next big thing, the greatest of them all. That's why seven years ago a grumpy Roger came into his room and reluctantly dragged not the top successor but an emotional fourteen year old guy to a room he had never seen before to meet a man he'd never dreamed to cross paths with. Mello learnt not to have high expectations of people, so he approached L with an open and serious mind set. The blond fixed his eyes onto a man, whose looks could trick you into thinking he's a lanky, young man suffering from constant fatigue. The detective had clothes on that were more than baggy on his obviously underweight figure and stood with hunched shoulders at the window. Roger had left him with a freak, he had first thought. It wasn't until L had turned around and his dark eyes bore into Mello's soul that Mello took a few steps closer to the man. Neither of them talked as they looked at each other. The young genius was the first to avert his gaze to the floor.

"Take a seat."

Funnily enough, the room lacked furniture as much as Near lacked colour in his white hair, which forced Mello to sit down on the cold ground. The lights were dim, giving the room a somewhat eerie touch. Minutes passed and the man before him hadn't introduced himself yet.

"Why do you want to speak to me?"

The older guy sat down, right in front of him with his knees pulled close to his chest.

"We're alike, Mello."

A million questions boiled inside the teenager's mind, yet he held back any sudden movements. Their breath was the only sound in the room. There were no clocks, no pictures, just a window, the ground and the four lanterns in each corner. Their conversation that night seemed endless. L gave Mello even more reason to despise Near. He found out things he would have never expected, understood things from a completely different level and heard stories, which could have never been any more marvellous. He held a mature, interesting, magnificent conversation with a man ten years ahead of his age and nothing could ever compare to that moment in his life when he felt that he was wasting time in the most perfect way possible. Almost everything about this man had been peculiar. His diet consisting of a variety of the world's sweetest confect; his sitting manners that allowed his thinking process to improve by forty percent; the bags underneath his eyes that symbolized his huge lack of sleep – never had a man been this interesting.

It wasn't until before Mello was escorted back to his room that the man bent down to the level of the boy's ear and whispered those little words to him. "I'm L." Full of wonder and gratefulness, Mello hadn't been able to sleep that night. Of course this would stay a secret between him and the greatest detective, but the blond would have loved to brag about his newly gained information to Near. The happiness began to wear off soon. L hadn't come back ever again and neither did he talk to Mello a second time. Just as Mello started to lose hope, he had received a letter from L, which contained only a few verses of a poem.

_Whose face it is, so pale? Whose lips they are, so chapped?_

_Whose arms so thin, whose body frail? May it belong to this miserable soul?_

_May it be a person half dead? May it be, may it be me?_

_But is half good enough? I ask myself. The longing stronger yet, bit by bit._

_A kiss from you, some pain by you. I will await you, sweet sweet death. -L_

It was a cold November night when Mello heard the news. L is dead. Suicide, most people thought. L didn't kill himself though. Mello knew. He knew L's lover and he knew it would happen. He knew who the sweet death was. Mello couldn't have stopped him. So he kept the letter a secret and carried this secret with him.

A week later, they announced that L had chosen Near to be his successor. Mello left Whammy's on the 12th of November.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Movies make escaping look so very easy, except it wasn't. Fleeing is an artistic talent that not many possess, thus showing that only the very best could escape. The last person to have ever left Whammy's without any trace was Beyond Birthday. No one knew how he did it. Until B told L and L told Mello. The master detective had every step of Mello's life after their meeting planned. Why else would he tell the second best how the former second best, named B, had escaped this hell?

On the night of the 11th of November the blond had packed all his belongings into the backpack which usually served as his school bag. He left all his books behind and only took a notebook and a black pen with him. The rest of the space was meant to be for his thick winter clothes, his two water bottles, the little money he had earned and some crackers he managed to get from the kitchen. From his desk drawer he pulled out a pair of scissors. Mello climbed onto the windowsill with his bag on his back and the scissors in hand, and then he jumped out of the window. He shivered as the icy wind hit his face. Everything went according to plan. 'Cut the blue cable in the alarm box near the gate, climb it but don't touch the top, it's electric. Move to sit on the stone wall right next to the gate, and then jump down to the other side. Look back, whisper goodbye to the place you once called home and run. Run and don't look back anymore.'

His first night as a free man hadn't been too cosy. Mello found an alleyway he could sleep in, sheltered by the containers on each side of him. Right as he started to fall asleep, the peeping of a rat awoke him and he saw several of them trying to get to his crackers. He whimpered and tried to kick them away in shock. It wasn't like he was scared of rats; he just disliked the thought of rats crawling all over him to steal his precious food. Cats meowed in the near distance. The teen missed his warm bed even more when the cold wind blew again. He decided to keep himself awake by walking. The ground wasn't much warmer than the breeze that slapped him in the face every ten seconds and Mello felt his feet freeze slowly. Someone moaned, most likely a woman, and a man was giving her dirty commands. "Suck it, bitch. You like that cock? You like when I fuck your mouth?" Mello felt a slight nausea as he heard the words and only walked faster.

Soon the boy was in what people would refer to as "Red Light district", something he had only read about in text books. Women in nothing but their underwear, men eagerly watching and grasping where ever they could to satisfy their needs. It felt completely wrong to be here. There were night clubs, loud music coming from every direction. Mello tried to speed up, to escape this distasteful scene of horny people, but a dark haired woman grabbed his arm and pulled him close. "The young guys these days always look so good…" she whispered into Mello's ear and began to trail her hand lower and lower down his body. The blonde's body tensed when her hand inched closer to his private parts so he forcefully pushed her off him and ran as fast as he could. His breath was heavy after a while. Eventually, he'd left that part of the city. Mello settled for the closest alleyway and decided to sleep there after he checked the place for any sign of rats. In this rat-free corner he managed to sleep uncomfortably yet as good as it was possible under these conditions.

A couple of hours later the wild traffic and general morning life disturbed his sleep. He withdrew a bottle of water and drank some of it before he got up from his resting spot. The sunlight blended him and he had to narrow his eyes to lessen the amount of sunlight meeting his eye. When he looked through his bag for the crackers, he found them on the floor instead, nibbled and bitten on by stray cats and rats. That proved to be a problem because he didn't have much money and right now, water was all he had left to keep him alive. Mello was a growing young man, he would become hungry soon. Just when he thought he had lost all hope, he spotted a supermarket only a few minutes away.

A few minutes later he entered the shop and earned some disgusted looks due to his dirt covered jeans, greasy hair and tired eyes. The aisle for protein bars and chocolates wasn't hard to spot. Mello knew finding a job was going to be difficult and he'll have a shortage on money soon and thus took his time choosing proper food which would keep him nourished for quite some time. Ultimately he decided on five apple energy bars along with a pack of dried fruits with nuts and on his way to the counter he grabbed a large bottle of water. With full hands the boy stood in line and heard people behind him talk rather trashy about him. Mello frowned, but quickly shrugged it off his mind when it was his turn to pay.

Everything was stuffed into Mello's backpack when he exited that shop. People rushed by him to the nearest bus station as they saw the clouds darkening fast. Slow footsteps dragged him to a park nearby to find shelter from the upcoming rain. The backpack was heavy to carry and he was freezing. He had no money anymore and no idea what to do next. At this point most people with a healthy, good-looking body would consider prostitution, but after the repelling experience from the Red Light district just twenty-four hours ago, the young boy didn't even let the thought cross his mind.

The following three nights Mello spent sobbing alone at the park bench. It finally had hit him that his former life as a comfortably living genius was over once and for all. Fear of the real world and of what he had seen so far overcame him every night as the icy wind made him freeze to the bone. Other people didn't seem to notice him; he was a ghost during the day and a howling wolf at night. About a week later he had no food, no money, and no job. Everywhere he tried to ask for employment he received a harsh turn down. He was useless, dirty, cold and starving all at once and the reality hurt more than anything he had ever experienced in his whole life.

One evening he decided he couldn't take the hunger anymore and walked to the store with no cash in his pocket. The temptation was so high, but would he really lower himself to this? Would he become a criminal for the sake of his survival? Yes was his shocking answer. Four days without anything to eat, he had lost quite some weight, but he made up for that by spending hours every day just exercising and gaining muscle mass. Still, he had to eat. He looked at a chocolate bar and frowned. His longing was unbearable so he picked one of the bars and secretly slipped it into his waistband underneath his shirt. Feeling like the most wanted criminal, he slowly moved to the exit while his pulse quickened drastically. Of course, the alarm went off.

Never in his life had Mello run faster than in those 10 minutes of escaping the alarmed police. With the chocolate bar in hand and his backpack secured on his shoulders, he ran to the next available building in sight and indeed he could hear the cops distancing themselves from him. Once inside this run down building, he leaned against a wall and smiled. He had done a crime and it somehow felt exciting. The adrenaline coursed through his veins. All of a sudden he heard voices. Male voices a few steps further from where he was currently standing. Mello swallowed and tried to concentrate on what they talked about.

"Kill her off." – "Tonight?" – "Tonight's the perfect time!" – "Harris, I'm not certain about this." – "Come on, Ron, you know she's been worthless all this time. Besides we agreed we'd kill anyone who gets in our way."

With wide open eyes, Mello tried to find something in the complete darkness that he could hit the men with. He didn't feel safe around here anymore. They were obviously criminals.

"And about that Rod guy…" – "I know, he's been so troublesome lately, that piece of shit." – "True. I still think we should get rid of that guy."

Finally, Mello came across a brick, which easily came off loose from the wall. Carefully removing his shoe, he put the brick stone into one of his wet socks. Sneaking up on them, he could see they were both buff men, who intentionally looked dangerous.

"Yeah, but how? He's a mafia boss for fuck's sake." – "Maybe we should ju-"

He fell to the ground, immediately knocked out. The other man had pulled out a gun and stood up, but Mello still had the adrenaline rushing through his body, so his mind worked phenomenally. He jumped over the couch they sat on, swung the brick into the man's face and avoided the off going bullet as to keep it only at a scratch wound on his shoulder. With both men knocked out, he grabbed the one guy's gun and couldn't believe his sight. There was blood all around him, leaking out from the huge gaps at their heads. Mello felt himself gag and then empty out his stomach's content. Blood mixed with all the food Mello ate the last few days.

Averting his gaze, he began to run away but someone took hold of his wrist and yanked him up. Another scary looking man stood in front of him. Sweat gathered at his forehead and he swallowed. His mouth tasted awful. The dark haired, tall man eyed him up and down. Mello saw a smirk creep up on those fat lips and bright yellow teeth were visible. This man in front of him seemed to sense his fear, yet no matter what Mello did, his feet would not obey him and run away from him.

"Don't be scared, I won't hurt you." Silence. "Tell me your name." Hesitantly the blond whispered. It came out stronger than intended. "Mello."

"Mello, huh? You did great on killing those guys."

"I didn't mean to!" Tears prickled at the corner of his azure eyes.

"Still, you did my work. I was going to kill you but now I'm starting to think you're quite something."

Mello didn't know how to respond to this, so the man kept talking. "You liked that feeling of adrenaline rushing through your blood, didn't you? Your eyes are bright and you're shaking. Why are you out here, kid? Where are your parents?"

"D-Dead. I'm homeless. I ran away from an orphanage."

"I will give you shelter. I can give you food and I can teach you how to survive out there. Tough guy, aren't you?" he laughed. It was an extremely loud and ugly laugh. "You just killed two people, you know. In less than ten minutes, you became a murderer. Impressive."

"But…That's wrong, isn't it?"

"In this world, Mello, everything is wrong when you put it in perspective. You were in danger, so it could be considered self defence, right? Now you have this," he pointed at the gun I still held in my hands. "It's a berretta. Keep it. Hold it dear as if it was your friend. I know you don't know how to use it yet, but hey, it won't be any more difficult than killing two guys with a brick sock." That ugly laugh again.

Back then, Mello only had a vague idea of what he was getting himself into. Did he regret it today? Not a bit. Would he have made L proud by becoming a mafia boss? Not really. L probably didn't intend for Mello to become a criminal.

Surprisingly sometimes things don't follow according to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A loud peeping sound marked the end of their shift. The last box was closed with the tape and put away just a few seconds after. The brunette closed his eyes for a second and let out a faint sigh. Most people got used to the announcing noise, yet the twenty year old simply couldn't stand it. There had been something very irritating about its way of interrupting his philosophical thoughts concerning the misery he lived in. His chubby colleague Derek had invited him to a party this evening, to which he left him in the vague assumptions of a maybe. Not because he was trying to be nice, but because he genuinely preferred the other option, in hope that something far more interesting would occur so that he'd have to avoid the party. Sadly, this almost never happened.

As Matt began to take off his uniform shirt and change into some more comfortable clothes, his phone rang. Slightly irked by the vibration, yet strangely calmed by the Moonlight Sonata as his ringtone, he stood shirtless for a while to answer the call.

"Who is this?" he more or less demanded in silky deep voice. "Mail? We wanted to check on you." Matt grit his teeth at the use of his real name. A few of the female workers stared and giggled when they caught a glance at Matt's fit torso. Rolling his eyes, he turned his back to them, which only served to please the very few gay workers there. "Why so?" he continued. The brunette hated unnecessary calls or text messages. "Well, you haven't contacted us in almost three months, Mail and we th-" At this point Matt had to interrupt his aunt. "Look, Karen, I'm kind of busy right now. I'll call you later." He pondered if she'd be disappointed with him, but even so, the young man couldn't have cared less about that. People really didn't matter in this world. Those who did became crazy or died too soon. Life was terrible, one way or the other.

The brunette put his phone back into his jean pocket, and put on the black tank top with the green hood shirt on top. Girls stopped giggling and guys stopped staring. Matt grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Exams would be held the next week, for which he hadn't studied the least bit yet. On his way out he was contemplating if he should go to the game shop nearby and look for a new video game to play, but he disliked the idea. The library hadn't been an option either, seeing as he dead almost every book they had already. Besides, he wasn't up for any reading on a Thursday night.

Wind tickled his brown fringe, which naturally had a unique tone. Many girls and even some guys found him rather attractive. Matt wouldn't consider himself extremely attractive, but it was true that he cared about his appearance probably more than some other guys did. Locker rooms were especially disgusting with those air heads of male population. It was such a shame. He had dated quite a few girls so far who couldn't pique his interest for longer than 4 days. Over the years Matt earned himself a rather stupid reputation of the school's "heart breaker". The term itself annoyed him to no end, because hearts could not be broken. Love was a silly game the human mind confused with lust.

Burying his hands deep in his pockets, he tried to shelter himself from the falling snow. Weather like this really wasn't something Matt had particularly been keen on, but then again he loved the cold feeling that was the closest to death. Oh how he longed for his death, for the thrill of feeling this unexplainable pain as your life slowly drained out of you. Sometimes he wondered why he wouldn't do it himself. Just end it right then and there. But he wanted a slow death. Where was the fun in committing suicide? Matt watched the world around him every day and despised the way human beings worked.

Once Matt was at the bus station he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one of the cancer sticks as he held it between his thin lips. The nicotine coursed through his lungs and calmed him down. Thinking about humans made him angry and often even irritated, therefore he required a Marlboro to keep him at sensible level. He took several more drags from it before he simply dropped it in the suffocating snow. His phone rang again.

"Gigi?"

"Hey Matt, I was uh.. I was wondering if you were going to that party at Derek's tonight?"

"I'm not quite sure." You know what, why not. It was still better than sitting at home being bored out of his mind. "I don't have other plans, so I might show up eventually."

"Oh that's great! Matt, I wanted to ask if you'd like to…"

"Go with you to the party?" he finished her question easily. Why else would she have called in the first place, if not for this? Gigi paused.

"Y-yeah… Oh, Matt, about Felicia… Don't let her know about this." The young man couldn't keep the grin off his face. Girls were so much fun to mess with sometimes.

"She's my ex, Gigi. I wouldn't want to cause trouble between you and your best friend."

"Good, thank you. Can you come pick me up at 7 then?" Her voice was so squeaky. Matt didn't know how anyone could have a voice so high.

"Sure. See you then, Gigi." His finger touched the red button on the screen. The clock showed 5:30 PM. Soon he got off the bus and arrived at his apartment. This would be an interesting night, hopefully.

Gigi was his best friend, yet Matt had always known the blond girl was absolutely crazy for him. She was madly disappointed when Felicia and Matt were dating, just a week ago. It lasted three days. Come to think of it, Gigi really did seem attractive. Blond hair, tanned skin, delicate features, azure eyes – She really was his type. By type he merely meant "good time" candidate. Still, it would be a nice change from the dark haired Felicia.

At his small apartment he showered, put on green boxers, a pair of black jeans and a tight fitting black and green stripe shirt. He settled for the black Converse shoes and applied a small amount of cologne. It was a party and Matt had a quasi-date, so he'll certainly enjoy himself.

Loud music filled the basement of Derek's house. Matt stood at the side with a wine glass in his hand and did nothing but observe the scene before him. Gigi and he showed up late at the party, due to Gigi's indecisiveness about her clothes. Now there she had been, dancing with the lot, her hair wild and high heels off. Everyone loved being here, laughing and drinking and smoking the night away. The redhead couldn't grasp the idea of this being entertainment, but he surely went along with it. He refused dancing with anyone simply because he didn't feel like interacting with anyone. Two cigarettes later, a hot black haired joined the party. Matt soon forgot about his blond date when the tall black haired walked over to him.

"I heard your name is Matt?" he tried to yell over the music.

"Yeah… But I don't think I caught your name."

"Maurice." That guy had a French accent. It was slight and romantic, matching his rather deep voice.

"Nice to meet you, Maurice. Are you new? I never saw you here before."

"I'm a childhood friend of Derek's. I came to visit him for a while."

"Interesting… Well, Derek's drunk and high and dancing with what was supposed to be my date for the night over there." Matt laughed breathily and also earned a chuckle from Maurice. They looked at each other for a few seconds. "Want to go to one of the room's upstairs? It's really loud in here and I'd like to spend some time with a sober person." Without noticing, Matt had winked at him. He thought he saw a blush on the French guy's face for a second, but quickly dismissed it. The redhead led him upstairs to a room that didn't have a couple making out feverishly and closed the door behind them.

"You don't really want to talk, do you?"

Matt smirked. "You're a clever one."

Maurice himself couldn't help the sly grin that came upon his lips. "Sometimes…"

The redhead approached the black haired, who sat on the bed patiently. If he couldn't die today, then he might as well do something exciting and new instead. Matt grasped the collar of the button up shirt the guy was wearing and crashed his lips onto Maurice's. Indeed it was exciting, fascinating, rough. It was new. Matt didn't stop Maurice from touching his chest, running his hands down his torso and slowly pulling him on top of himself. This Maurice guy was an amazing kisser and seemed very experienced, to say the very least. He was also hot - extremely so, even. Matt felt his senses let loose and lost himself in this new experience.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Late at night Matt had untangled himself from the soundly sleeping Maurice and clothed himself. The whole house was quiet. People passed out on the couch and some even on the floor. The twenty-year old found his jacket and headed out of the building, when a sleepy Derek walked up to him.

"Leaving already, champ?" The words came out slurred and with a great amount of tiredness. He didn't wear a shirt and the zip of his loose trousers was open. Matt stopped outside the door and nodded his head. "Yeah, have to get up early and prepare for a test. You'll be alright, yes?" Derek only smiled and returned back inside. Wind tousled his auburn hair, making some strands fall into his eyes. He strolled down the empty streets. He didn't live far away, so he wouldn't have to worry about getting a cold if he wouldn't bother to wear a coat. He hated the snow here in England with a passion, despite his love for winter and coldness. Streetlamps gave the world an orange touch at night and Matt couldn't help but smile at its temporary beauty. Indeed, the night was wondrous, mysterious, and dangerous and filled with adventures of all sorts. Sleep is for the weak, the night belongs to the wicked creatures.

But snow could melt and cars would rotten the white layer. Only the black and grey remains were visible after a day or two. Sometimes he thought that Jack Frost or whoever makes this repelling snow in the city, must be a drunk bastard, who's unable to control himself and his actions. The next day he'd wake up with a massive hangover and the guilt of suffocating another beautiful city in disgusting snow. He wasn't one to care though, was he? Jack Frost could do whatever he wanted, that crazy idiot.

A blinking red light above his head saying "Red Velvet" interrupted his frivolous thoughts. About seven years ago, this area had been a Red Light district but the police was strictly against it and a few prostitutes and drug dealers were put in jail. Horny teens from his class used to sneak out of their houses at night and venture to this exotic part of the city. The next day everyone would hear the shocking stories of the naked women, strippers or prostitutes. Matt never bothered to listen to this nonsense anyway. If anyone asked him to go there, he'd have kindly declined with the simply words of "I don't need to see human skin more than necessary. It's a waste of valuable time, don't you think?" This got him many weird looks as a young teen. Many assumed he was gay until he dated Natalie, the German exchange student in his sophomore year. They broke up a week later.

Matt passed an old man, who then grabbed him by the arm and coughed. "Excuse me, young man, do you have something that could keep me warm on nights like this?"

"Would you die otherwise?" he asked out of sheer curiosity. "Would that be really bad?"

"W-Well, my body feels really weak already, and I can't say for sure how long I'll live… I want to enjoy the last moments of my life, young man," he retorted and shivered in his own skin. "Would you do an old man a kind favour of giving away your beautiful jacket?"

"That depends. Would you like to suffer or die immediately?"

"I would rather die immediately."

"Why won't you, then? Otherwise you will suffer from the cold."

"I can take a little bit of suffer, young man. I've been in wars. I'm awfully old, but my wife died and my children abandoned me. I'm at the end, nowhere to go and nowhere to stay."

Matt smiled. "Life is cruel, isn't it? Giving death to people who don't want it, and letting people live who are desperate to die… Here, you'll have my jacket. Let's hope that you'll live and I'll see the sweet, sweet death soon." Without any more words the old man took the jacket and mumbled a million thank yous at the student. Matt couldn't help but chuckle when he realized how confused the man must have been at his words.

He inhaled the fresh, cold air and kept moving. Only now he remembered Gigi, who he left at Derek's party without further notice. His thoughts went back to Maurice, who was so very sweet to him. The way their bodies moved in that dark room, his laugh, his clumsiness – It all came back to Matt and he loved every second of it. It was exciting, daring, thrilling and gave him that spark of life he rarely experienced. Sometimes, and only sometimes, life would seem liveable. One day he would wish to die in an instant and other times he would like to hold on to that thread.

As he tip toed through the alleyway he always crosses in order to get to his apartment block, the redhead began to feel uneasy. He believed to hear a creature walking behind him, yet every time he turned his head, nothing was to be seen. All of a sudden he was grabbed at the wrist. Matt was pulled to the wall and got pinned down there. His opponent made it impossible for him to move an inch.

Not that Matt did protest though.

A smile crept up his thin lips as he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against his forehead. Life was so ironic. Just three hours ago he had been shagging a pretty guy for the first time and actually wanted to live. That's when death decided to visit him. "Hi," he whispered to the strong person that held him down. Matt didn't lack physical strength, it's just that he refused to put up a fight. This was his ticket to Painville. Bloody, horrible, short.

His opponent stepped into the light with a confused twinkle in his eyes. For a moment Matt believed to be looking into the dazzling blue eyes of an angel. He gulped and kept the gaze for some time. The only sound between them was their fast breath. The fair-headed Angel before him seemed angry, his pupils diluted and grip still undeniably tight on Matt's wrist. Minus the gun, Matt was now in the same position as Maurice had been just hours ago: Pinned against a wall, his wrists held together above his head. The redhead almost wanted to kiss this person for fulfilling their dearest wish, but a drop dead sexy growl from his Angel held him back. Angel pressed his gun more to his forehead. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction from Matt. Any signs of fear, anxiety or uncertainty that any normal victim would show to their murderer, but Matt smiled like a dork instead.

"Tell me right now, why you're not fucking whining like a baby."

Sweet, sweet death! Here you finally are!

"Go ahead. Kill me. I beg you, kill me right now." Matt almost moaned. Now he noticed that his Angel wore nothing but tight brown leather. Tight brown leather all over his body gave Matt pictures he liked more than he probably should. His Angel was actually a Death Angel. Aforementioned Angel raised an eyebrow at the redhead. Blonde strands hid the eyebrow almost.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Irritation laced his voice, which was almost an octave deeper than Matt's own.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Matt actually laughed, "Kill me already. I don't know what you're waiting for."

"José! Plan K."

Just as Matt began to wonder what "Plan K" could have been, his Death Angel kicked him in the stomach. He winced a little but then grinned. It felt like dying, getting kicked in the gut over and over again. It felt like something. Something new, exciting, thrilling.

He soon felt his vision become dizzy and the world around him went completely black. His last thought was a hopeful sounding "Death Angel killed me."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
Mello could only stare at him. Blindfolded, chained up and unconscious the kidnapped guy lay on the ground of the small cell. It still remained a mystery to the blond Mafia boss why this guy hadn't been wailing and crying in pain and horror. Each one of his victims feared him and he loved that. Last night, he discovered that humans weren't entirely stereotypical. Psychos existed everywhere. Even in England.

The leather-clad man straddled a chair and rested his arms at the back of it. His eyes stared intensely at the auburn haired victim before him. Mello kept his gun in his lap, in case the jailed guy would come up with any funny ideas of escaping. Not that it was possible, but Beyond Birthday managed to escape from his cell years ago as well and the psycho could be just as clever. His leather boots clacked against the cold metal floor, mimicking the ticking sounds of the clock above the door.

The body began to move. Redhead seemed to be regaining his senses slowly. His first reaction to being chained and blindfolded was rather disappointing. He sighed. Mello could not say whether he dreamed all of this, but the redhead was upset. Anyone else in his position would freak out greatly. Mello took hold of his gun and pointed it at the redhead.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Earth?"

"Don't you dare get cocky with me!"

It only provoked a smirk out of the redhead when he heard the click of the gun. Mello growled. He knew things were going to be handled differently in this case. There was no way in hell that the Mafia boss would give that little fucker exactly what he wanted, so he lowered his gun.

"You're in the mafia, in LA."

"LA?!" The blond almost burst out laughing at the way his mouth dropped in disbelief. "When did that happen?"

"While you were sleeping soundly."

"Figures," the redhead scoffed slightly – much to Mello's amusement.

As a mafia boss, he had an endless list of unfinished business and as much as he would have liked to stay with Psycho, Mello had to get to work now. He took a look around the mostly empty room and stood up, heading for the exit.

"José, make sure the bastard stays in his place. No violence whatsoever though. Three hours and I will be back to check." The buff looking man next to the cell gave a nod, while Psycho merely growled in disappointment. With a smirk, Mello left the room and headed for his office.

The cushion of his armchair relaxed him to the bone, freeing his thoughts from the irritating Psycho down in the basement. The gun was tossed aside on his desk and his heavy eyelids closed in exhaustion. Yet the day hadn't been over and the list still had unfinished tasks to be completed.

Noir: check the safe and count money (total of 5 billion)

Alberto: ready the cars and weapons for tomorrow

Gérald: Cocaine, LSD, heroine from drug dealer Harris

Francés: THE GODDAMN CHOCOLATE STOCK. NO. WHITE. CHOCOLATE.

Vince: red wine, vodka, whiskey, champagne, and other booze from Paul

The leather-clad leaned back and spread his legs. He grabbed his phone and pressed the number 1.

"Yes, boss?" a scruffy, dark voice answered.

"Noir. Come to my office, this instant."

"On my way, boss."

Barely seconds later a man, who was slightly shorter than any of the other lackeys and therefore about Mello's height, entered the office. Azure eyes ranked over the nice legs, slim hips, defined arms and chest before they rested at his green orbs, which peaked out of black hair strands. For a second the blond caught a smirk in those green eyes, but it faded fast. Patiently he waited for his order. There was no way Mello could have waited all this time for an order, but he loved to torture his lackeys as much as he was tortured when Rod was still alive and boss of this Mafia.

After endless minutes of silence, Mello rose from his chair to face the black haired directly. Once he walked around the desk and leaned against it, he smirked at Noir's impatiently twitching hands. His lackey took another step forward, which finally made Mello speak out his demands. "I want you to check the safe on the second floor and count the money inside. It should be about a total of five billion American Dollars." There was no need for any further warning. One dollar less and you're dead was written all over his flawless face, from which Noir could hardly get enough from.

Mello always knew that Noir lusted for him. At times, Mello would use this to his advantage and persuade the dark haired to do his least favourite jobs such as horribly boring money counting. He can read his thoughts, he's thinking that Joe should do replace him, but Mello won't give him that. When the boss wanted something, he'd get it, no exceptions. But in moments like this one Mello liked the thought of a little fun. Such a stressful day it had been and the fair headed man desperately needed a break from it all before an equally stressful night would begin. Both took a step forward, their eyes longing and burning with desire. Mello grasped at Noir's tank top and crashed his lips to his own. It was aggressive, lusting, passionate and hot. Noir's kissing skills allowed Mello to improve his own all the time. They parted and it only took the black haired a smirk and a knowing look to understand that he should leave immediately and keep this a secret, as always.

Alberto was a tall, yet slightly plump man of the age 45. He strongly disapproved of a 21 year old being his boss, but the rumours of Mello's brutality were enough to shut him up. With a fake smile and clenched fists, Alberto kept nodding as his boss gave him instructions on his task. The mission tomorrow marked an important date for his mafia base. Of course everything had to be following his exact plans. He spent several weeks preparing for this attack and now the day had finally come to fight their currently biggest opponent. Alberto knew his fate if he were to fuck this up and with this lovely thought in mind he marched off, gruntingly mumbling words of disgust under his stinky breath.

Gérald despised drugs like Mello despised white chocolate, which made him the perfect choice for the drug business. Someone who hates drugs won't try to smuggle them into his own account, but would rather get more and then leave it for the others. How polite they always seemed to be to each other…

Harris had great deals. He knew Mello from his visits with Rod, five years ago. Since then, the bastard remained loyal to the Mafia like no other. A slip up three years ago almost cost him his life though, so he stayed alerted whenever anybody mentioned Mello's name. Sometimes Mello would accompany Gérald to see Harris and only to mock him. But today he simply wasn't in the mood for anything. Gérald left his office to meet Harris alone.

Vince was one of the newer members and grumpy as hell. Once he's drunk though, he'll be a party animal like no other in this whole world. Mello was aware of that and thus let him handle the booze every month. That nice 17-year old with a fucked up past couldn't break Mello's record: becoming the youngest mafia member and mafia boss of all times.

Last but definitely not least came Francés, who ironically enough was English. His parents were one of the few British people that actually found a liking in the country of Eifel. Francés had been a member before Mello joined, yet lost his high status due to stupid mistakes and partly even because of Mello's fame. Mistakes like the one he did two days ago when he ordered chocolate for his boss.

"Yes, boss?"

"You fucking idiot, Francés! What did I tell you about white chocolate?"

He actually winced. The fear in his eyes was music to Mello's ears. He thought of the redhead and how he hadn't gotten that reaction, and scoffed at the clueless Brit.

"I… I'm sorry, boss. They didn't have any milk and dark chocolate anymore, because Valentines day is approaching and people have been buying chocolates like crazy."

"What kind of a lame excuse is that? Valentines day is almost a week away, you dumb shit, and we're the mafia for fuck's sake! One more stock of white chocolate and you'll be seeing white soon."

The brunette Brit stared at the ground in shame. "Get the hell out, now! I want my dark chocolate arrive tomorrow morning. Or else…" He didn't have to finish his sentence. Francès knew what else would happen. He nodded and quickly left the room.

Mello glanced at the clock with a sigh. Two and a half hours have passed and now it was nearly midnight. The night wasn't over just yet – Psycho needed a visit.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
The nature of Matt allowed him to remain calm in times like this. What was the worst that could have happened? Death. Would that have been really bad for Matt? Not really. He was still in disbelief, after all, being in the mafia of another country in another city didn't seem cosy to the redhead, whose feet would not stop tapping on the cold metal ground. The sexy voice had left the room about two hours ago and Matt could feel the other guy's eyes bore into the core of his soul. Finally, he had enough of being completely blind, tricked into a darkness he did not wish for.

"Get those blindfolds off my eyes, or kill me, you fucking cunt." Someone near him huffed audibly to show his annoyance. His boss told him not to kill the redhead. It was time to provoke this man endlessly. "What's your name?"

"…"

"Will you tell me where I can go to the toilet?"

"…"

"Not very talkative, are we, ?"

"…"

"I bet you just follow the blond's orders because you're after his ass, or possibly even his cock."

"…"

"Hmm? I'll take that as a yes then. You know, gay people are really fucking disgusting. Wouldn't surprise me if you were one, you stink a lot, I can smell that you haven't even showered in days."

"Tch…"

"Oh! Progress! How about you tell me your name? Mine's Matt. Wait, wasn't your name José or something? Hah, Spanish is an annoying as fuck and I must know, because I took it in high school for four years."

"Shut up."

"But why should I? Talking is so much fun, José. Hey, let me ask you nicely again, fucker. Take that blindfold off of me and I'll shut up."

"No."

"…Is what all your past girlfriends said when they saw your cock."

"For fuck's sake shut up already!" The click of a gun made Matt smirk. Perfect, he thought.

"Put it down, José." The blond just had to interfere, right? Oh well, he had his fun at least.

The metal door to my cell squeaked when the boss opened it. He leaned close to him and Matt could feel his breath at his lips as the blonds hands solved the knot in the blindfold and put it away. Immediately his green orbs met stunningly blue ones and for a second they held the gaze. Controversally to common belief, love at first sight could not exist but lust at first sight happened every day. Humans were that sex driven.

When he stood again, the redhead was faced with a leather covered crotch. "Heh, blondie should be careful what he wishes for," he mumbled and even saw a slight smirk flitting across the mafia boss' lips, which in return made him grin smugly.

Suddenly the blue eyed man before him grabbed a handful of red hair and yanked him up into a standing position. "Argh! Wait! Ahh fuck! Fuck you, seriously." – "We'll see about that later, freak." – "Hah, in your dreams." The pricelessly horrified expression José made across the room almost cracked him up. "Boss, is it okay to free him yet?"

Blondie scowled. "Do you doubt my decisions, José?"

"No, boss, you're always right." A pathetic whimper escaped him. For a brief moment Matt wondered if that mafia boss would always put way older and taller and stronger people into such misery. He quickly found his answer in those blue orbs when boss glanced up while working on the knot at Matt's feet.

"I'm keeping your hands tied–"

"How exciting."

"– and I'm talking you out of the building."

With his mouth ajar, his eyes wide and his blood rushing faster through his body, Matt stood there in utter surprise. "You're not serious, are you?" It wasn't Matt but José who spoke. The standing blond turned his head, his shoulder-long hair swinging with the flowing motion. Pure venom laced his voice. God, he was sexy. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, José, in my office," he said, when he actually meant, "You're in fucking trouble, José."

They marched out of the room, Matt smirking at José and whispering "Fuck you" on his way out, while boss simply gave him a deadly glare. The corridor reminded him of those in movies. They were always long, dark, and narrow. Boss led the way through the darkness until they reached another door, which the blond simply kicked open.

"You sure treat your doors nicely around here."

"Shut the fuck up."

This time he couldn't help but oblige. Mainly because boss began to get interesting and Matt was eager to live a little longer around the crazy man. They walked out of the building through what seemed to be a backdoor, leading to an alleyway. The stench of piss got to his nostrils, making the redhead crunch his nose up in disgust. A stray cat meowed. When Matt glanced up he could see one of the best motorbikes in the world and one of the sexiest people alive riding it.

"Get your ass over here, redhead."

Boss solved his ties and they looked at each other for a few seconds. There was something fierce in those azure eyes, but Matt couldn't decide if it was just the urge to murder him or lust. He put the helmet on, sat behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist upon demand before they drove into the sleepless night.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
The time had come for the city to awaken and the traffic along with it. Mello swerved his bike around shiny sport cars, his speed increasing with every passing mile. The redhead had placed his hands dangerously low on Mello's waist, but the blond could tolerate it as long as he remained silent. If there is one thing he couldn't stand, it was talking during the ride late at nights. His occasional booty calls didn't follow the simple rule and ended up being left at some motel in the suburban part of LA after Mello had finished with them.

This matter was different though, because he's taking an absolute crazy person with him to his apartment and not some run down motel. Once they reached the outer districts of the city, the buildings lessened more and more. They revealed a number of poorly kept houses, seeing as no one actually lived in this part. The air became dryer around here, making it a little more difficult to breath. The engines roaring decreased quickly until it stopped when Mello finally parked the bike. He mumbled something to the redhead, just loud enough for him to hear and waited until said guy got off the bike seat. Skies above them darkened and Mello suspected rain for the night. With the helmet under his arm, the mafia boss led the redhead to his shabby apartment.

Mello set the keys down on the counter at the entrance with a cling and turned around to the kidnapped guy. Confusion gathered on his features and Mello couldn't help but smirk. He expected something like this. It may be small, but it provides you with so much more than you can imagine.

"What's the matter, redhead?"

He hesitated. "I… I guess I thought that mafia people would have plenty of money to live in… uh… luxury."

"If there is one thing you can learn from the mafia it's living on the edge," Mello zipped down his leather boots to take them off as he spoke, "When you have to survive on nothing but a few dollars a month and treated like you're the lowest piece of shit in this whole world." Shivers ran down his spine as the memories of his first night alone on the streets haunted his mind once again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. Mello could feel the redhead's eyes boring into his soul in that moment, but he didn't bother. Exhaustion caught up with him and it was difficult for the blond to actually snap at someone now.

"I'm going to show you your room," he sighed when he couldn't stand the silence from the redhead anymore. His boots were forgotten at the entrance, along with the black, worn out Chuck Taylors belonging to the visitor. The floor beneath them creaked with every step – a misfortune that Mello still hasn't been used to. He always forgot to tell someone to fix the problem, so he'd have to bear with it. They entered a living room, which wasn't so much of a room but rather a living area with a couch that would be a bed at night, a table, a small TV and a few books sprawled out on the floor. Connected to it was a kitchen, with a stove, microwave, and a cupboard for the supplies. Mello nodded his head towards the couch and explained, "This is your bed. Over there is the toilet, and this room is my bedroom, which you are not allowed to enter under any circumstances. Understood?"

After the brief nod from the redhead, he pushed him down onto the worn out couch with a soft thump. He seemed shocked, Mello could guess from the way his eyes widened. From underneath the cushions he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Without a second to hesitate Mello straddled the crazy guy's lap and cuffed his left hand to the visible, metallic part of the half torn off armrest.

"You're not going to move until tomorrow morning. I will check on you later tonight," he said, getting off the redhead again.

"Why are you even bothering?"

With a glare Mello turned back around. "Excuse me?"

"Why don't you just kill me now?"

His tone sent shivers down Mello's spine, but the mafia boss refused to answer. He didn't know why exactly himself. It would be easier to kill him off and be done with the whole deal, but something prevented him from doing so.

"I'm Matt by the way. You are?"

"None of your business," he irritated him greatly. Without looking back, Mello went to his bedroom and shut the door. Why did he tell him his name? How would it benefit him if the mafia boss knew of his name? Mello could not comprehend this man. A long sigh slipped from his velvet lips as he met his reflection in the mirror. A slender figure, pale skin and golden strands of hair, which reached to his chin, looked back at him through azure eyes. Mello zipped down the leather vest and let it fall from his shoulder. In his reflection he could see the inked in tattoo of a snake in blue and green, trailing down from his shoulders to the lower part of his waist. The symbol of their mafia was the snake. Everyone had this tattoo, albeit Mello would be the only one with a full back tattoo, because he made it once Rod had died and made him the new boss. What an unfortunate accident it had been…

Over the years Mello came to hate this man. While he admired who he became, the blond simply despised the middle aged, bald, ugly mafia boss a little more every day. Mello picked out the advice, learnt his ways but it did not stop there because Mello improved every little tactic, every little plan and made it into a masterpiece of brilliant work. Rod was a nasty man, whose interests lied in women and alcohol solely and while he had the experience, the young lackey never saw any brains behind his work. Irked and furious about a failed plan Mello had escaped and left his boss to die in the rotting flames of the burnt building.

Mello's bedroom was full of books. The ones that wouldn't fit into the several bookshelves were all over the ground in neat piles. The blond loosened the laces of his leather pants to pull them off as well, because it would be unbearable to sleep in those skin tight trousers and fell onto the uncomfortable cold mattress.

This wasn't going according to plan, he was not supposed to give someone access to his private life. Matt should be dead by now, rotting in the dirty corner of some alleyway, but no, something held him back. Why did the redhead want to die? Why didn't he fear Mello? He couldn't understand, when he so desperately had wanted to. In moments like this, he would think back to the day when he met L.

"What does B mean to you, L?"

"He's my lover."

"But… isn't he a murderer? Are you not against murder?"

"No, because I love him to death."

"What if he wants to kill you?"

"Then we'll both die. We can't exist without each other."

Matt reminded him of L. Was Matt in love with the death? Why couldn't Mello kill him when he had the chance to?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
The cold metal stung into his skin, disabling his left hand from moving. He frowned as he thought of his hometown, the place where he would give anything just to go back and forget this all had ever happened. Sitting in the corner of a coffee shop and chugging down coffee cup after coffee cup sounded like a far better idea than gambling on a squeaky couch with his hand cuffed to it. This was so ridiculous! The blond had to do nothing but pull the goddamn trigger and Matt would have been long gone and the mafia boss not so bitchy. Then again, maybe it had been the guy's nature to keep this arrogant, almost stupid attitude. No, stupid couldn't be the right word, because the man was temperamental, yet still an undeniably smart person. By avoiding the death of Matt, he was keeping him on the edge. He knew it would become a greater torture for the redhead if he violated him, but keeping him alive all the while. Mr. None-of-your-business was a sneaky bastard.

While the sofa had the optional setting to be a bed, it wasn't so much a bed but a thick piece of wood Matt lay on. The sharp edges dug themselves into Matt's delicate pale skin on his left forearm and he hissed as it began to be painful. He cursed the blond under his breath, knowing that if he moved a finger, it could scratch up his arm. "Where did you get this scar from, Mail?" – "Oh my god, what happened to you, Matt!" – "Heh, I told you all he was emo! Depressed little cocksucker!" Better not risk it.

Matt hated sleeping on couches since he was a young boy, when his aunts Mary and Sue let him sleep on said couch but never watched over him. In his slumber, Matt fell from the soft cushions only to meet the hard parquet floor. The redhead moved his sleep quite often, but his aunts were too busy fondeling themselves to even notice a crying four year old on the ground. The bulge on his head lasted for several days. Matt would not sleep on couches again after this. But this was an exception. This whole mess was merely an exception. The more he repeated it in his mind, the less he believed it. His thoughts trailed off and before he knew it, exhaustion hit him with an uncomfortable dose of sleep.

He awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. Closing his eyes, the redhead tried to listen carefully. The mafia boss was crying? Yes, it couldn't be anyone else. The walls seemed thin, therefore he could hear all the whimpers and the small snivels and sobs coming from what the blond had referred to as the Forbidden Room. His heart was slowly filled with cement, hardening and falling to his feet at the sound. A blond, young man with tears streaking down his cheeks and his hands clinging onto the closest pillow in sorrow was not the happiest picture his mind could form. He really must be crazy, but in the second he heard the mafia boss cry, he wanted nothing more but to hold him in his arms and assure him that there was nothing harmful in this world.

In a moment of unawareness he shifted on the couch and instantly bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming. The sharp metal cut open his forearm barely enough to make the red liquid trickle down from the metal onto the ground. With his free arm, he slipped out of the right side of his shirt and pulled it off his head to the left side of his body. Matt pressed the shirt onto his wound as best as he could, trying to stop the bleeding. In the background, the blond still cried to himself. The moonlight shining into the room exposed a ricocheting object stuck to the couch. Matt left the shirt to soak in all of the blood, and reached out for the object. This single motion caused the old furniture to squeak again and all of a sudden silence filled the room. Matt hadn't dared to breath, afraid that the blond would come out and find him awake. Just for a second he was glad to hear the blond's cries again, and withdrew the object from the couch.

A hair pin? Fair enough, he thought and started to use said hair pin to unscrew the cuffs from his left wrist. After minutes of struggle, he succeeded with a clicking sound to free him. Now he could escape. He could climb out this window and run away. But that took too much effort. He'd rather just walk around in the room without cuffs so that Mr. None-of-your-business could shoot him in an instant. With his left arm moveable, he took the shirt off completely to make a knot with it around the wound. After all, he couldn't afford getting an infection. What a disgraceful way to leave this world.

Matt had no doubt that by now, the mafia boss was calm again and simply tried to collect himself. He could picture it so well. A person with this much emotion must be hurting constantly. It wasn't even worth it. In this world, those who hurt are only celebrated when discovered. But the leather clad man gave off the dangerous and fearless vibe. No one would ever guess that this man, who killed hundreds of people by now, cries when he wakes up. Maybe he didn't even sleep at all. Maybe the mafia boss cried although the night because of hurtful memories or it was just a nightmare too real to distinguish from reality. Sad, wasn't it? People who want to live, suffer. People who want to suffer, live.

Dawn had arrived and Matt thought that maybe he could at least get Mr. Emotional on his good side for one day. He slowly began to show interest in this contradicting character of the miserable young man. This was the only reason Matt tried to keep himself from getting killed right now. Tip-toeing over to the kitchen part of the living room area, the redhead began to search through several cupboards to find something edible. Unfortunately, all he found was a bag of instant coffee. This had to be good enough for now, he thought, and took two mugs from the shelf and added five spoonfuls of coffee to each. After this terrible night, the blond could use a strong one, right?

While he waited for the water to boil, he looked into the fridge, only to find it almost empty. There was a box of noodles and some water bottles in the back of it. He sighed and now poured the hot water into the mugs and proceeded to stir it. "Mhh..." he smiled as he inhaled the coffee smell. With a jolt, Matt almost dropped the coffee mug onto the ground. Cold metal touched the back of his neck. The click of a gun. Shit.

"Why the fuck are you not cuffed to the couch?" The mafia boss sounded venomous. For a second Matt truly believed he will kill him now, but when the dumb-struck redhead refused to answer, the gun was lowered.

Seconds passed before Matt gathered the courage to turn around and face the furious man. "I made coffee," he stated in an attempt to calm him down. "I thought you would like that. It sounded like you had a rough night." He kept his voice low. Green eyes met blue ones, which were red and puffy from the previous sobbing fit. Matt also noticed that the blond stood before him in nothing but black boxers. Wordlessly, the mafia boss shoved his gun at the side of his boxers before he took hold of the mug in Matt's hands. The redhead let a small smile come onto his features. They both began to sip on their coffees.

Both of them stayed silent for a long time, but then curiosity got the better of Matt and he asked in a whisper, "Did you have a nightmare?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
Mello froze to the bone. Of course he was aware that the redhead heard him sobbing, but he wasn't expecting him to ask so directly. Matt, as the victim, could not utter such a blunt question to a mafia boss. Usually it meant death for him. Maybe Matt knew that he was an exception, nothing but a glitch in the system. He would always be just that.

Instead of answering him, Mello shot a deadly glare into his direction. How could he dare to ask such a personal question! Fury boiled in his blood and with a growl the blond put down the coffee mug and tramped off to the bathroom. Curses were mumbled under heavy breaths and doors were slammed shut. He could have killed him. There was no reason he shouldn't have shot him in the brain. Coffee did make him feel better, but why would a kidnapped person bother with friendly gestures? What was he hoping to achieve? This guy had to be out of his damn mind!

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Good. Today marked the day they would kidnap Samuél Rodgrazí, the boss from the mafia base called "Angel". Mello had to be concentrated. He took a shower and merely ten minutes later he left the bathroom, with a towel around his waist. He snarled a little when the irritating sound of "Good morning, LA!" met his ears. Matt was sitting in front of the TV and watched the news. Why did he act as if they were living together? But then again, Mello had no chance but to accept it, because right now he had much more important things on mind. After he got dressed in his brown leather outfit, he pocketed his gun and headed out of the building. One last warning look should remind Matt to not touch any of his belongings. The blond had a strange feeling that the redhead would violate the rule immediately.

The lock was turned twice, caging Matt in Mello's apartment. The mafia boss revved up his bike before he set off on his way to the mafia base. The cool morning wind trousled the back of his head, where the hair stuck out of the black helmet. He used this time to think about his plans and about the way he would have to deal with the kidnapped boss. Once he arrived, Mello hurried inside and immediately headed to his office. There was no time to lose after all. The clock on his desk showed 9 AM in vibrant red letters. He scowled when the colour reminded him of Matt. The redhead had his shirt wrapped around his forearm, the white parts of it crimson with blood and the blond guessed that he had cut his skin open at the metal edges. Mello couldn't deny that he did not feel like touching Matt's attractive torso when he saw it, but such thoughts had no place in his mind for now.

"Alberto, to my office, now."

A few minutes later the middle aged man stood in Mello's doorway.

"Report."

"Guns are ready. Cars are ready. We know their location and the spies have guaranteed us that Samuél is on his own right now. His lackeys only come to the mafia base an hour later than him. The security system is weakened, but will only be shut off when you give us the command. Group 1 is already in their cars, waiting for demands. Group 2 is waiting there and lurking, but still always in contact with us to tell us the current status."

"Good. Very good. Tell everyone we're leaving in half an hour."

"Yes, boss."

Alberto left the office and Noir entered just a moment after him.

"Boss, there is a problem with the computers. The hacker we have right now says that solving the problem won't even work when we get the acquired data. It's just too complicated and there is no system that can actually solve it."

"What?" Mello shouted at him, wide-eyed. "Fuck him then, I will deal with that shit myself. Kill him."

"Boss, are you sure? I mean, maybe he can still figure it out."

"I told you to kill him right now!"

Silence.

"…Yes, boss."

"Noir?"

The guy with jet black hair turned back to him and Mello grabbed him by the collar to press his lips harshly to the blond's own. The kiss lacked emotion and was merely to get off some steam. Probably not the kind of kiss Noir would have wanted, but Mello didn't feel anything for the man. He was a toy, an experiment. Panting hard, he pulled back and shared a long look with Noir.

"You should go and get ready, we're leaving in 15 minutes." And with those last words, Noir left Mello's office.

The mafia boss would not risk going there himself though. Not this time, not with such a powerful opponent. Mello sat in his leather chair with the golden M engraved into it, and spoke through a walky-talky, giving commands to each group. His eyes were focused on the cameras installed on some of the lackey's helmets, giving him way more perspective over the whole situation through monitors than going there himself.

"Alarm system, off. Group 1, go in. Group two, stay outside and kill anyone interrupting. Group one, surprise attack from behind. Half the group turn around and shoot. Half of group two, go in. Help the others. Sniper one and two, shoot through the top left window."

Everything went incredibly fast. Blood was everywhere on the ground, dead bodies strayed like his books at his apartment. The boss got injured at the knee, making it difficult for him to walk. Some of Mello's men died from gunshots. Samuél got hit on the head hard, enough to let him lose consciousness for a whole while. They shot the others, some carried Samuél back to the van. They tied him up and blindfolded him. José was leading the mission from there. They had to get back, fast and traceless.

Three hours later, they transported him into the cell. Just yesterday the same had happened with Matt. So much happened, but in such little time that Mello could have thought it was weeks ago. Leading a mafia was hectic and a lot of work. All there was left to do for the day though, was the interrogation. They needed all the information they could get and Samuél was the only one who could provide them with it.

"N-Nhh…" the man slowly regained consciousness. Mello stood in front of him, smirking from ear to ear. This should be fun, he thought.

"Where… Where am I?" The sweaty strands of hair stuck to his forehead. With a horrified look he stared at the blond man in front of him.

"Does that really matter? You're here for one reason and only one," leather boots clacked against the ground as Mello circled the tied up man's chair.

"What do you want from me, Mello? Let me go!" His breath got stuck in his throat when he felt a gun at the back of his head.

"Information, Samuél. You know exactly what kind of information I want."

"Tch! As if I would give you that!" he spat. Mello would not accept that. The man had gotten more than one warning. He took out the knife from his boot and flicked it against his neck.

"I dare you, say one more unnecessary word and you won't get to speak anymore." The blond loved the look of terror in this miserable man's eyes. A few seconds of silence followed, before Samuél finally spoke.

"The passwort to Destruction's system is…"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
Matt heard the door close and relaxed on the couch. Neither had the blond questioned how Matt had succeeded with taking the cuffs off, nor did he say something about the nightmare. In fact, the redhead wasn't sure if it truly was a nightmare, because the cries had woke him up a few hours ago. Maybe the mafia boss had been crying all night, from the moment Matt felt too tired to stay awake on. His mind wandered and played with all the possible scenarios, possible experiences that would have led to it. A painful childhood memory? The disappointment of Matt not being afraid of dying? What was all of this about, he wondered.

His curiosity increased and Matt couldn't help it any longer. With the hair pin he had found earlier, the redhead sneaked up to the blond's bedroom door and began to pick on the lock. The click was his sign to walk in. Matt stood still for a few moments, his mouth agape and eyes wide in awe at the amount of books the room drowned in. Leather-bound ones, small ones, huge ones, everything from play to comic to adult fiction, the mafia boss owned every book Matt could think of. On his bed lay a notebook and beneath it was a book. Othello read the title of the play by the famous Shakespear. Matt sat on the bed and picked up the book. A page was marked by a piece of blank paper, so Matt opened the book on that page. Two lines were highlighted.

Desdemona: I understand a fury in your words,

but not the words.

The simple lines gave Matt a clue on the blond's personality. Was this the way he felt about his angry self? When Matt opened the notebook on the first page, it read:

"This notebook is the property of Mello." The redhead raised his eyebrows. Mello? Was this his name? He would have to try this later. How ironic the name was. Mello, the guy who was in no way mellow. But maybe that was another clue? Maybe Mello secretly wanted to be mellow. The image of a good guy gone bad came into his mind.

As Matt flicked through the pages, he thought that this was not an ordinary diary. This was the story of a struggling man growing up alone. The redhead spent hours sitting on the old mattress and reading bit by bit about the person Mello was in his book. Sometimes coldhearted, sometimes cruel, but sometimes he was the desperate, loving human being that no one could see. This notebook made you feel what Mello felt, experience it with your own mind in such a brutal reality. It wasn't until a tear fell onto the page that Matt noticed he was crying. Sixteen years ago Matt thought it would be the last time he'd shed this many tears, the last time anything than himself mattered to him. But somehow, he cried because nothing had ever felt so real since his parents' death when he was five. A line from Shakespeare's As You like It was written on the date of December 13th.

"I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine."

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the words. All the while he read everything in Mello's voice, but this sentence was merely a heartbroken whisper. Three hours later the redhead put down the notebook and looked around. For a mafia boss, Mello seemed to be an incredible source of information, a genius in his own kind. The piano standing in the corner of his room indicated a talent for piano playing, but before Matt could explore his room even more, he heard the clinking of keys outside the door. With speed he put everything back where it had been and ran out of the room, only to flop down on the couch again. Luckily, he had forgotten to turn off the TV, so it sounded as if he had been watching a documentary about The French Revolution for three hours straight.

"Have you really been watching this for three whole hours?" Mello said in a sceptical tone.

"I had to entertain myself somehow! I don't know if you have noticed, but my arm still hurts. Besides I have always liked France."

"Snobby little bastards, that's what the French are," the blond hissed, sitting down next to Matt on the couch and Matt did a great job on keeping his cool during the whole situation.

"True, but the English aren't much better. We have a queen, all we want to be is unique, the very best. Truth is, we're failing with that little by little every passing hour."

"…"

"…What?" he narrowed his eyes a little as he caught Mello staring at him.

"You reek of blood and sweat. Not a fabulous combination if you ask me."

"And?"

"… This means you have to go shower, dumbass. Afterwards I have to treat your wound properly. Wouldn't want to have you dying on me now, huh?" Sarcasm laced his voice.

"Alright, I'll go shower. What about clothes though?"

"I have some old jeans and a shirt. It should work for you though. Wait here." Mello sprinted into his room, but he didn't seem to notice it wasn't locked anymore. Less than a minute later, he came out with the aforementioned articles of clothing.

"Fine."

Matt got up and left for his shower. The cold water felt somewhat relaxing against the redhead's skin. In the shower he kept thinking about Mello, repeating his name in his mind over and over again.

You must be crazy, Mail. He's the last person you'd want your heartbeat to quicken for. For he is falser than vowes made in wine, do not fall in love with him. But… I'm falser than vowes made in Vodka. See, you're absolutely mad. Probably. Bonkers. Maybe. What are you thinking about now? Mello. Hopeless. You are an idiot. Thank you.

With a sigh he stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a fresh towel. The clothes he was supposed to wear were loose, plain jeans and a skin tight, black shirt saying "Slitherin is the best" in poison green letters. Harry Potter fan, huh?

Speaking of Slitherin, Mello had revealed the most amazing tattoo ever to Matt when he turned around that morning. A blue and green snake made four loops, the last loop consisting of the snake's tail inside its mouth. It stretched itself all over the pale back, signalizing infinity in all directions. Matt couldn't think straight for several minutes when he saw the tattoo.

When he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Mello sitting at the table. On one side was a plate with noodles and vegetables and on the other side was another plate, but with rice and steak.

"I figured you should eat something. You can even choose."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
Mello couldn't explain it to himself. For once, he didn't feel like being a ruthless bastard to someone. For once, he wanted to bring a smile to someone's face, even if he himself was hurting deeply. After last night's nightmare, he told himself he'd do something good if the mission went well. Which it did obviously, because now Mello had everything he needed to hack into Destruction's system. That was, except a hacker. Noir killed him off, upon demand. But the mission was successful nonetheless and Mello found himself sitting at the table in his rundown apartment with the kidnapped redhead called Matt and he was eating noodles with vegetables while Matt took the steak.

"I didn't know you could cook." You don't know anything about me, he thought.

"I learnt it a while ago."

"It's delicious. How was it like at the mafia today?"

"We kidnapped the head of another mafia, called Angel, and I got the information I needed in order to hack into the mafia base called Destruction. They are currently our biggest opponent. Once we completely destroy them, the stage will be ours. All of LA will fear us."

It felt strange to be talking to a stranger so casually about their plans.

"That sounds great," he mumbled after he swallowed the noodles.

"Only problem is, we don't have a hacker. He was killed."

"Ouch. Well, that could be a problem. When were you intending to hack into their system again?"

"Tomorrow at midnight would be the perfect time. That's why I need a hacker as fast as possible."

"I'm sure you'll find someone. You're in a mafia after all. I imagine stuff like this must be pretty easy."

He snarled at the comment. "Just because I lead a mafia it doesn't mean that finding criminals is all that easy. I have high standards."

"I suppose so," he whispered with a shrug, "But you're a good leader, Mello."

Mello's eye twitched. How in the world has the redhead found out about his name? There was only one way he could have done that and this was exactly what made Mello's blood boil with fury. "You fucking bastard!" the blond shouted and went over to him just to kick him harshly in the side. It was enough to throw him off his chair and onto the ground. Mello straddled his lap and began to beat him up, hitting him with his fist into his stomach and chest, knocking the breath out of him. "I told you not to go into my room! Moron! How dare you look into my notebook!" His face reddened from the anger. Mello pulled out his gun and held it between Matt's eyes. The panting redhead stared up at him with a knowing look. He stared at Mello as if he knew exactly what was going on inside him.

Even when his finger twitched at the trigger, Matt did not show fear in his eyes. You think I won't shoot, huh? You're wrong! You're so wrong, Matt! I could kill you right now! Just pull this trigger and be over this! Fuck, why are you looking at me like this? Why are your eyes so intimidating? Why won't you fear me… You should run away, before I decide to like you. You idiot. You fucking idiot.

Mello lowered his gun again and got up. Without a single word he went to his room, locked the door and slid down to the ground and let the tears out. Breathing became difficult. He grabbed his notebook and frowned at it. On the page of his birthday, the ink was blurry. A tear drop? Did Matt cry when he read this?

Nonetheless he took his pen and began writing something into today's entry. It was a line from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

For another hour, Mello sat in his room, thinking about things he never wanted to think about. How green Matt's eyes were, how fierce his whole being was, how much he wanted to kill him. This terribly confusing feeling lasted for quite a few minutes. Was he becoming the next Beyond Birthday? Did L know this would happen? Was this the reason why Matt reminded him of L?

After he calmed himself down, the blond headed out of his room again. Matt sat at the couch and tried to cover his wound with the shirt again. For a second, Mello felt bad because he knew that his wound was opened because of his beatings. A sigh fell from his lips and he walked over to the redhead.

"Hey, let me look at it. It needs proper treatment."

Matt stayed silent but removed the shirt to reveal the injury. "Fuck, this one is serious. Wait here."

A few minutes later Mello returned with the first aid kit he kept underneath his bed. He set it down on the ground and flipped it open. Feeling Matt's eyes on him, he stood up to dampen the towel with cold water. When he returned to the redhead, he instructed him carefully, "Keep your arm still. I have to clean the wound. This water is very cold so," he let Matt hiss at the intensity of the pain as he used the cold towel to stop the bleeding and clean the wound.

"Shh, it's okay," he tried to calm him as he applied an antibacterial oilment.

"It feels cold," the redhead whispered. "That's good, it heals better this way. You'll be fine." For the next few minutes it was silent while Mello wrapped the gauze around the arm and secured it with some surgical tape. "There you go."

"Thanks, Mello."

When their eyes met that moment, Mello saw raw emotion in Matt's eyes. His chest became tight and for some reason he really wanted to kiss him right now. But Matt turned away and the magic was lost.

"You should, uh, rest. It will heal better this way. I have a busy day tomorrow so I'm going to call it a day as well."

A nod and nothing else. When the mafia boss reached the door, he heard the redhead mumble.

"Sleep better."

Better. Not well. As if he knew.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
The next day Matt slept in. His body decided to make up for all the lost energy through sleep, therefore his sleep lasted until the very afternoon. In fact when he looked at the clock, he thought he was still dreaming. Grunting, he sat up on the hard couch and ran a hand through his messy bed-hair. He craved for some coffee now, anything to get his mind to function properly right after awakening. Wearing only the loose jeans from the day before, he walked over to the kitchen section to look for the ingredients. On the counter he found a blue note and immediately recognized the handwriting.

Celebrating with the higher ups. Back very late. Don't do anything stupid. –M

When would Mello understand not to use subjective words such as stupid or dangerous? Matt folded the note up and put it in his back pocket. While the water was boiling, he turned on the TV right when the six PM newscast started.

"Good afternoon. Yesterdays voting in Britain resulted in more than 400 of the votes approving of same sex marriage, while only 150 did not. Further, this would mean…"

Boring, Matt thought and muted the TV. Marriage was overrated anyway. He couldn't understand why two people who were not married but together for all of their lifetime didn't have the same amount of happiness in their lives. Did a ceremony really matter this much? He sighed and got up to fix himself a cup of really strong coffee. Chugging all of it down in a few seconds, Matt decided that he would explore Mello's room a little further today.

The redhead spent three hours reading through Mello's notebook again and he wouldn't put it down for even one second. When he read the last entry, the one about a blind cupid, he felt his heart speed up again. Matt closed his eyes, trying to imagine why Mello wrote this and why he chose to use this exact quote. Mello was an absolute mystery.

He remembered the piano, standing in the corner of the room. While he was careful not to knock over any of the books, he got to the instrument and sat down on the small bench in front of it. Grazing his fingers across the keys, he smiled. It had been years since he last played the piano. Gradually, he added more pressure on the key until a sound emitted from it. I wonder if I can remember any pieces.

His hands began to move above the keys, hitting them gracefully and creating a beautiful melody. The music distracted him from everything else and he allowed himself to close his eyes and simply imagine the most beautiful thing he could think of. Soon he came to realize that the object of his fantasies was Mello. He imagined them dancing together to Chopin's music under the starry night sky.

"What the fuck are you doing in here!" Mello sounded more than unhappy. Fortunately, Matt remembered that Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata used to be Mello's favourite instrumental piece as a kid, therefore he paused for a moment and resumed to play. This time he played it perfectly, now completely in the mood and determined to make Mello feel better. Said man stayed silent and simply listened, although Matt could feel those azure eyes bore into his soul.

Without another word, Mello sat down next to the redhead and stopped his hands. It didn't take long before he released them and began to play a duet song. When Matt realized this, he tuned in and they both continued to play until they their fingers hurt. More than an hour had passed when they finished composing melodies and harmonies together. Both rested their hands on the bench, inches apart, but never closer. Both looked at each other with such a passion and understanding that it would have been too intense for words. Both wanted to give into their desires, but didn't.

"Good evening, Mello."

"Good evening, Matt."

A smile tugged at both of their lips, but neither of them would admit it.

"Mello, I've been thinking…"

"Yes?" Matt was surprised when he heard the hope in Mello's voice.

"I kept it from you, but I used to hack a lot. I still do. I would consider myself suitable for your problem, but I can understand if you wouldn't want to take any risks."

"No, Matt, this is perfect!" He glanced at his clock above the bed. "Forty minutes. Is that enough time for you to prepare?"

"Yes, if the devices are here."

"They are. I'll give you your instructions then!" It felt good to be able to help, somehow.

After Mello had installed the program onto his laptop and hooked up all the necessary devices, it was Matt's turn to listen to the instructions as closely as possible. Mello's voice made it easy to concentrate, because his serious and anxious tone left you no time to relax.

One minute before midnight, Mello nodded at Matt and he returned the gesture.

"You can do this."

"I'd hope so."

Then he began to type. He would encode a million symbols, hit about 500 keys a minute and the world around him became a blur. There were several problems that took him a couple minutes because of their complexity. Sometimes he got frustrated, other times he relaxed and kept writing in an unnatural speed. Firewall broken here, virus implanted there and a few more codes later he succeeded. After almost an hour they were in the data base of Destruction.

"I'm done."

Mello, who had been walking in circles anxiously the whole time, beamed and looked at the screen to admire Matt's work.

"Matt, this is amazing. Our hacker would take several hours and not get past the third firewall. You managed in less than an hour. Are you some kind of genius?"

"Maybe I am."

"L would have loved to have you at Whammy's…" He mumbled, but Matt understood the words.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh," he blurted out, as if he had been caught. "Nothing. Anyways, thank you so very much for doing this, I would have been… I wouldn't have done it otherwise." Matt immediately wondered why the leather-clad changed his choice of words midsentence.

"You're welcome. But, uh, Mello?"

"Yes?" Why do you sound so hopeful, Mello?

"Be careful with the mission tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
Darkness has always surrounded him. He lived in darkness, breathed the darkness, felt the darkness. Around and inside him he could feel the darkness. There was not one spark of light inside him. That was, until he finally found a little bright flame in the middle of nowhere. A flame will make a fire inside of him. A fire, that will light up his darkness and let it fade away. If only he was willing enough to let that flame live. If only he wouldn't have been the one to kill that flame with the coldness of his darkness.

Gasping and covered in cold sweat, Mello woke up that morning feeling sicker than a pregnant woman. He curled up on the bed and frowned. This dream… What did it mean? Who was this flame? The questions haunted him still. Calm down.

Today would be the big day. The mission that he had waited for all his life during his time in the mafia had finally arrived. Yesterday he spent the whole afternoon preparing the guns, the men, the vans. Instead of going to the party for higher ups, he went to this most favourite place, a lake far away from any people and he sat there for three hours just thinking the matter through. Admittedly, for almost an hour, his thoughts stayed with the redhead. But then he forced himself to go back to the previous topic. Last night he fell asleep to the memory of playing piano with Matt. Mello had to admit, at least to himself, that this was the happiest memory he'd ever had. It was so emotional, that it could have been Mello's patrolum memory. His heart could barely slow down when he was trying to sleep. How could anyone ever be this accepting of him? How can Matt not fear him, run away from him, or attempt to kill him? Why wouldn't he do anything but accept Mello and make him feel… important?

With a sigh, he got up and went to the bathroom. Matt was sound asleep on the couch. Last night he helped him make the couch into a bed so he'd have more space to sleep on. Mello even lent him one of his pillows. Once the bathroom door was locked behind him, he cast a look at his reflection. Long, honey coloured, gold-blond hair that reached his chin in straight strands. His forehead was covered by the bangs he had there too, curving slightly to the right side. Mello's eyes were such a clear azure blue that most people thought they were too intense to handle. Nothing could compare to Matt's emerald ones, but Mello did like his eyes. You're insane. A little, yes. You're completely mad. I know. You're just going to accept it? He did the same with me, didn't he? But you're crazy. We both are. Okay. Okay.

After his shower, Mello got dressed in his usual leather attire. With a note on the kitchen counter and a chocolate bar to eat for breakfast, he left the building and drove back to the mafia hideout. There he told everyone of his success of hacking into Destructions system.

When he called Noir into his office this morning, something weird happened.

"Boss?"

"Noir! Did you tell everyone to get ready?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good, we can't fuck up now."

Suddenly Noir pressed Mello up against the closest wall, trapping him with his wrists above his head.

"N-Noir, what are you doing?"

"Getting back at you for using me, Mello. Come on, it won't hurt." He started kissing down Mello's neck and the blond stood frozen with shock. When Noir began unzipping his vest, a sick nausea attacked Mello. The same one he had experienced seven years ago.

"Get off me, Noir!"

"Heh, you'd wish."

"I'm warning you! For fuck's sake we have no time for this shit! Oh hell no!" Mello growled when Noir tried snaking his hand down his body to his lower front. The mafia boss reacted quickly and with his knee he kicked Noir into his crotch, making him curl up on the ground. He was wailing in agony, but Mello had no mercy with him whatsoever. In his burning anger, he shot the black haired man into the left shoulder. Mello shot a hateful glare at him before he left the office to get ready for his mission.

The mission itself had gone amazingly well. They managed to kill everyone in the building and Mello was left with the begging, fat boss of theirs. He finished him off with a nice shot between the eyes. At the very end, Mello let them blow up the whole hideout, so that Destruction would be over with, once and for all.

Several hours later they were back in their own hideout. Mello sat in the huge couch in the main area of the building. Noir was long gone. He knew better than to stay in Mello's office after what he'd done. The blond would probably never see him again, yet he wasn't even the least bit disappointed because of that. José, who was treating some people's wounds, sat close to him.

"Have you seen Noir anywhere?"

"No. I told him to stay here and watch over things and stuff. But now he's gone. Don't know where, don't know why."

"…"

"…"

"It's amazing that you managed to hack into their system. Did you do it? There was barely any time to find someone new."

Mello finally smirked a little.

"No, this wasn't my doing. It was someone very special."

"Well, if he's so special, he should work for us, don't you think?"

"I agree, José, he should become part of the mafia. He clearly has enough brains to do so."

That's what Mello was going to do when he arrives home. He'll make this special person want to live.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
Matt passed the time reading Shakespeare and playing piano. He did anything to distract his thoughts from Mello and the unbelievably risky mission the reckless mafia boss had to attend. When he wouldn't busy himself with a book or something, the worry would eat him up alive. Destruction truly wasn't an easy opponent and for some reason, he didn't want Mello to do anything stupid while he was away.

At 10 PM Matt was laying in his bed, unable to sleep, with his left forearm pounding. A sigh fell from his lips and the redhead closed his eyes, trying to find comfort on the mattress of Mello's bed. He wasn't supposed to be in here, not to mention sleep in here, but the couch started to give him back problems and he simply couldn't bother with that. Once he felt his curled up form drift into deep slumber, a hand shook him awake.

"Matt. Matt, wake up."

Mello's voice sounded softer than the plush he owned as a young kid. Light and angelic, like a whisper in the warm summer breeze, Mello's voice hit his ears with grace. He could truly fall asleep to it. Mello was an angel, his death angel. The fallen angel with the hard shell but the soft centre was trying to lull him into his sleep.

"Get up, you lazy ass!" This time he jolted up. It wasn't a dream; Mello really sat here next to him.

"Mello?" he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. Stifling a yawn, Matt looked over to Mello only to meet his azure eyes. "You're back…" Three second later, realization hit him, hard. "You're alive!" he yelled at the blond. In his excitement he leant forward and pulled him into a tight hug, but he awkwardly pulled back when he noticed the blond was silent.

"S-Sorry, it was… in the spurt of the moment," Matt stuttered.

"It's alright. Calm down. I'm fine and that's all thanks to you."

Matt didn't ask any questions. He simply nodded at him and gave a hint of a smile.

"I should clean your wound again and then I really need to rest."

"Alright. I'm sorry I almost fell asleep on your bed."

"Don't worry about it, Matt. You can stay here tonight, as a reward."

Mello rose from the bed and walked out of the room, only to return with the first aid kit again. The sound of their breaths, calm and slow, was what kept the room from going completely silent. It was a gentle sound that reassured them both of each other's presence. Mello solved the gauze and cleaned the wound with cold water, but this time Matt didn't hiss or move. He simply stared at Mello and was more and more aware of the blond's beauty. The fair skin, the blue eyes, the honey hair… Mello defined gorgeous.

Mello looked up as he rubbed the antiseptic into Matt's skin. "Is something wrong? You've been staring at me for the past five minutes."

"No," the redhead replied, "I'm alright, thanks to you."

Mello took a moment to let the words sink in, before he continued with the fresh gauze. "Matt, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" the redhead whispered, his gaze never moving away from Mello's blue orbs.

"Why do you want to die so bad?"

All this time, Matt knew the question would come up eventually. Yet he hadn't been prepared for when it was actually uttered. He didn't know what to say, so he simply closed his eyes and remembered everything from the very past.

"Sixteen years ago, something really bad happened to me. I can't even begin to explain how much this one event influenced me. It was heartbreaking, unfair, unjust. Why them, but not me? I ask myself this question every day. Why can't humans be a little more careful? Why do we all just suck at being good people? I believed that death was the only way I could truly find peace in this world. I believed that the pain, coming with death would finally feel fair, because they experienced it but I haven't. I should have, but I didn't. I got away. I survived back then, screaming, crying on the hard cement ground. I was yelling at everyone who passed by us, didn't pay attention to the crashed car. I was yelling at everyone who tried to get close to me. But they weren't them. They didn't belong to me. Ever since then, I hated humans with a passion. I was forced to socialize, I was forced to forget and start anew but no one could feel this pain. It was the kind of pain that didn't feel like it was enough for me to kill myself, but at the same time made me want to die. An opportunity like this could have been perfect. A guy with a gun, wanting to shoot my brains out and make me drop to the ground in seconds and I would have experienced the pain I wanted. Even if just for a few seconds, I could have gone back to them. I could have felt alright again."

Mello was listening intently and lowered his head when Matt finished talking.

"Do you really think it's what they would have liked? Dying is game over, Matt. They didn't die unhappy. They died having someone to care enough about to be happy that they lived. I don't know what you expect life to be, but it's not roses and tulips. I'm not going to give you the crap about other people having it worse than you, because that's bullshit. People suffer equally, just on different bases. Miserable people never lived long, but their suffering is the same amount that a happy person experiences when they live long. People are unbelievably stupid, yes, but that doesn't mean that you have to be one of them. Life isn't short when you're happy. There are moments in a happy person's life that are just worth living. You will see."

"I will see?"

"Yes, tomorrow, I'll show you how to live."

That night, Matt slept next to Mello. That night, Mello didn't scream. That night, Mello slept well. Not better, but well.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
The sunlight met his eyes, causing the blond to stir awake. Red hair was covering his chest and Mello realized that the redhead fell asleep in his arms last night. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks and swallowed. His fingers ran through the red locks, down the freckled shoulders to rest at the redhead's slim waist. Mello himself only wore boxers, green tight ones. He remembered that Matt had blushed when he saw him and it kind of made him grin inwardly. The redhead was absolutely breathtaking. The peaceful look reminded him of angels. Matt was a floating angel, torn between flying and falling. Today Mello would drag him down with him. Matt would become a fallen angel.

With all the grace he could muster, the blond withdrew his arm and laid Matt's head on the soft pillow instead. His feet met the ground before he rose from the bed and headed to the shower. For once, he could relax and have nothing on his mind but Matt. The redhead meant more to him than he had intended to. It proved to be difficult not to think of him as attractive, but even more difficult was it to pretend not to enjoy his presence.

For special occasions Mello had always worn the black leather outfit that would hug his body like a second skin. This outfit revealed nothing, yet everything. You could make out the shapes, but never how it looks beneath that. We finally defeated Detruction, he thought, it's time to look absolutely breathtaking. Everyone in the hideout would consider it a fresh start. Maybe Mello would do the same. Once he squeezed his body into the tight clothes, he combed his hair and made sure that one glance at his body would be enough to make everyone drool over him.

They didn't have any important plans for the day, at least not until the very evening. Mello picked up the phone and dialled José.

"Can you reserve a table at Le étoile? For two people, tonight, at 7 PM. Yes, thank you."

He was taking Matt out to the most expensive restaurant in LA. But that wasn't his only plan for the day. When he walked back into his room, he started to wake the sleepy redhead. "Hey, Matt, wake up," he whispered and remembered yesterday. Then an idea popped into his head and he began to nibble on Matt's earlobe. "Matt, get up and let me fuck you senseless, baby." A moan. Heh. Then, instead of kissing his neck, he bit him really hard. Matt sat up with a jolt. "Ouch! Mello…" he frowned, rubbing his bite mark.

"C'mon. You're going to the hideout with me."

"With you? Why, I mean, I - woah."

Mello smirked. Matt liked the leather outfit.

"Earth to Matt," Mello hummed as he snapped his fingers infront of the green eyes, "go get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

As Matt busied himself with showering, Mello thought it would be nice to make them both hot chocolate for a change. It wasn't as if the blond hated coffee, it was just a little too bitter for his likings. Matt had approved of the chocolate.

Half an hour later, both of them were on Mello's shiny bike, on their way to the hideout. Los Angeles was a busy city in the morning, but unlike in the evening the mornings were incredibly stressful. Needless to say that Mello had cursed quite frequently during this drive. Luckily he calmed down when he and Matt reached the hideout. Most Powerful Mafia in America's history seemed like a suitable name for the hideout.

"Boss!" Everyone raised their guns when they laid eyes on Matt. "Calm down everyone. This," he motioned to Matt and gave the hint of a smile, "is our new hacker."

"Wasn't that the one you kidnapped, boss?"

"Yes."

"Why should he be our new hacker?"

"He's the one who managed to get into Destructions system. Without him, we'd all be dead."

They clearly didn't approve of it, but that was the thing about being the boss – they had to shut the fuck up and obey anyway. Matt looked surprised, even though Mello expected him to have guessed so much already.

"Follow me, Matt, I'll show you your room."

While he still intended to have Matt living with him, at least for a while, Mello decided it would be for the best if he redecorated his apartment. That way it would be suited for two people living together. He headed down the hallway until he reached a room in the very back of it, close to his own office. "Come on, open the door." The gasp that emitted from the back of Matt's mouth was wonderful. "All those computers are mine?"

"Yes. It's all yours."

"That's amazing… But if I am going to work here, should I just forget about everything back in England?"

"Well… If you don't want them to worry about you, I could tell someone to kill a guy and disguise him as you, then the police will consider you dead. We can put some of your hairs onto his body so they will think it's your DNA."

"Cool."

"If you think so," Mello chuckled. "We have plans for tonight, so don't have too much fun in here. My office is three doors away, if you ever need anything."

The redhead gave a nod and smiled at him. "Mello?"

"Yes?"

"Why are there several boxes of white chocolate in here?"

"Francis!" Mello growled. He bought the white chocolate again. He could kill him!

Matt just laughed and laughed. "What's so funny?"

"I used to work for a chocolate factory. Packing up boxes with white chocolate. I just think it's hilarious because I've always hated that job and then I end up in the room of a hacker and those chocolate boxes are still following me!"

Mello couldn't help but laugh as well, even if just a little. "Do you like white chocolate?" he asked the redhead.

"Nope. Never have, never will. It's just sugar with milk, not real chocolate." God help me, this guy is making me fall faster and faster.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
Hours later Matt had his arms wrapped around Mello's waist. The wind tickled against his skin. The world around them just passed in a blur. He didn't know where Mello would take him this time, because it didn't matter to him. As long as the blond would be there, any place in this world would be fine. He knew that speaking during the ride was useless, because (a) it irritated the driver, (b) the driver wouldn't hear him and (c) they could die.

In the sky above them the sun hadn't yet set, but in less than an hour it surely would. Matt kept holding onto the mafia boss until the engine stopped running. "We're here," the blond announced. When Matt looked up, his gaze fell onto the enormous sign saying "Le etoile". No one in this whole wide world didn't know this restaurant. The finest of them all, the very best and extremely fancy restaurant, which held the top spot among all the American restaurants and Matt could stand in front of it. It wasn't until Mello lifted his chin with his finger that the redhead realized he stood with his mouth wide open in a gasp. "Don't tell me we're going to eat there?"

He didn't tell him. He simply took Matt's hand and walked into the huge building. "Reserved for José Gurandella."

"You reserved a seat on the roof, if I recall correctly?"

"Yes."

"Please follow me." This nice, short woman led them both to the elevator. It was controlled by a key, so they had to escort you. But, wow, they would eat on the roof! Amazing! When they waited for the elevator to reach the top floor, both seemed to notice it at the same time: Their hands were still entwined. Instead of pulling away, they glanced at each other and gave a small smile.

"Enjoy your meal."

The roof top provided the customers with a beautiful view over all of Los Angeles. Matt could barely contain his excitement. Silently leading the redhead over to the table, Mello pulled out a chair for him.

"I didn't know mafia bosses could be this romantic." But of course he knew that the blond had a very sensitive side. "Only sometimes. Besides, this is a special day, isn't it?" Matt could only agree. The food was indescriably delicious. Never in his life had Matt experienced such a wonderful fireworks on his taste buds before. Matt took a sip of his wine. He wasn't legally allowed to drink wine yet, but it wouldn't make any difference when everyone else he knew already had. They spent more than half an hour eating in this familiar kind of silence, neither of them saying a word, both of them admiring the cits basked in the red tone of the approaching sunset.

They ate chocolate cake as a dessert together. Matt blushed when Mello actually offered him a piece with his fork. In movies they make romantic moments seem so idiotic, clicheed. But in truth, the way Mello looks at him and the smile tugging on his lips was the most beautiful thing you could imagine. When they finsihed eating, Mello and him leaned against the railing of roof top, watching the city from above. The sunset was absolutely breathtaking from his angle and so was the person standing next to him.

"I have one place I would really like to show you," Mello whispered. Mello left three hundred dollars under one of the plates, the waitress should consider herself lucky with this huge tip. The blond dragged him out of the building again, and with his bike they drove away.

By the time Matt and Mello arrived, the sun was nowhere to be seen. The nightsky was beautiful and clear, because the park the blond has drove to was far away from the city and its fume filled air. Only a few lanterns lit the place.

"Follow me."

And he did. He followed Mello over the fields of greens, through a bunch of trees, until they ended up at a lake, hidden from the rest of the park. The clear water reflected the shining moon above their heads and Matt began to think more and more that this was a dream. Reality couldn't be this amazing, right?

"It's the place that I come to when I need some time for myself... You're the first person to ever see it."

The redhead almost asked why, but he knew the answer to that question himself. They sat down on the wet grass, next to each other.

"It's beautiful."

"This day wasn't so bad, right?"

"Not really. Can I ask you something?"

"Just ask."

"Why did you want to kill me in the first place?"

"Because ever since I've turned 18, I had decided to kill people according to the amount of snow that fell every winter. Winter was Near's favourite season, and the white snow just always reminded me of him. I really hated that guy. Especially when this one special person told me that he had cheated on all his tests and that I would have been better than him all this time. But it couldn't be proven. SO until he admits that he cheated and that I am better than him, I was going to kill people in England, our home town. I do this by random, so even though I haven't killed you, I had someone else kill a random guy on the street to make it up for you."

"You do this every year?"

Mello nodded.

"That Near guy sounds like a real dumbass."

"He was. Still is, actually."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Go ahead."

"Does this belong to you?" Matt held up a broken rosary. He had found it under the pillow of Mello's bed. The back of it says Mihael horizontically, but the vertical part was only half visible. "Mihael Kee"

Mello stayed silent. "I believe you've read my notebook, Matt. Haven't you?"

"I have," the redhead admitted, "But there was never a part about a rosary."

"That's because I don't know who gave me it. All I know is that, when the caretaker of Whammy's has found me outside the building, I was wearing it around my neck. Roger said there was a chocolate bar as well. I think it should be my real name. Or my father's name. I can't tell. It was never whole, the little part on the vertical line was always broken. When I went to Whammy's, I had gotten the name Mello, so I stuck with it."

"But Mihael sounds like a beautiful name. My birthname is actually Mail, written like mail but pronounced like mile. I have always loved that name because of how unique it sounded, but when my parents died and I moved to live with my aunts, a lesbian couple, I made everyone call me Matt. Unfortunately, my aunts never got that into their head and kept caling me Mail. Once I was sixteen, I moved out."

They both didn't say anything for a while. Instead, they watched the water and the leaves move with the breeze. Matt loved how the moonlight made everything seem so very dreamy.

"Mail is a beautiful name."

"So is Mihael."

"Do you think I'm even Mello anymore?"

"No. Am I still Matt?"

"No."

Matt couldn't explain it, but as he looked into Mello's eyes, he wanted nothing more than to be with this fallen angel. In those dark eyes was a fire, lighting the dark and letting it fade away. Matt wanted to be this fire. The redhead placed his hand onto Mello's and leant forward.

Their lips met with such a fiery passion and the desire ran through their blood. Their eyes closed and both finally gave in to their need for each other. With his arms around the blonds neck and Mello's hands on his waist, they kissed until they really couldn't anymore.

Panting, grinning and gazing into each other's eyes, they whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Mihael."

"Nice to meet you too, Mail."


End file.
